


Just Like Superman (only cooler)

by DizzyDrea



Category: White Collar
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Misunderstandings, Transformation, Trope Bingo Round 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 22:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14342601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDrea/pseuds/DizzyDrea
Summary: Peter rubbed a hand over his face. Neal could almost see the frustration rolling off of him. He didn't like that he was the cause of that, but he really didn't want this to become a habit. The idea that Peter would only let him off the anklet to use his abilities to help solve a case left a sour taste in his mouth. It made him feel used, in a way that his people had tried to avoid for millennia.





	Just Like Superman (only cooler)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this back in 2012 (yikes!) as a sequel to my story [In the Blink of an Eye](https://archiveofourown.org/works/401398). It's not necessary to have read that story to understand what's going on here. Just know that Neal is a Djinni who is trapped in human form by the anklet he wears as a condition of his release. (Although if you want to go back and read the original story, I'm not going to stop you.) :)
> 
> For the _Free_ square on my Trope Bingo card (Trope: _Transformations_ )

~o~

"We need to know what they're planning," Peter said as he bent over the files spread across the conference room table.

"Well, unless you've got an inside man or a bug I don't know about, we're out of luck," Neal said.

He was lounging in the chair at the end of the table, watching Peter execute a slow burn. They were trying to get inside a charity scam, which was proving difficult, to say the least. None of the principle players trusted anyone outside their small circle. If Neal hadn't been on the FBI's side, he might have been impressed. As it was, he was annoyed because Peter was annoyed and insisted on taking it out on him.

Peter turned speculative eyes on him. Neal sat up, raising his eyebrow. "What?"

"You could go in, see what they're up to."

"Peter, I'm a Confidential Informant, and they know it." Neal frowned. "It's not like they're going to open up to me just because I'm a fellow con man."

"Ex-con man," Peter corrected automatically. "And I'm not asking you to just walk in and start asking questions."

Neal stared at Peter for a few heartbeats, trying to figure out what he was talking about. Then the penny dropped.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "No way. Forget it."

Peter raised his eyebrow. "What? It's perfect. They'll never even know you're there."

"That doesn't change the fact that you won't be able to use anything I learn," Neal reminded him.

"You're a CI," Peter said, hitching his hands on his hips. "Which means I don't have to ask where you get your information."

Neal rolled his eyes. He knew that, however he wasn't sure this was what the Bureau had in mind when they agreed to their little arrangement. He leaned back in his chair and propped his leg up on the table, tugging at his pants leg to reveal his tracker.

"I can't transform, remember?"

"And I can remove it when I need to, remember?" Peter said, returning Neal's steady gaze with one of his own.

Neal dropped his leg back to the floor, rubbing his hands over his face. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"We need this, Neal," Peter said. He sighed heavily. "If there was another way, I'd take it."

"Yeah," Neal said, echoing his sigh.

Peter cocked his head. "Why don't you want to do it? I'd have thought you'd be excited to get off your leash for a while. Spread your wings, so to speak."

Neal tugged at his cuffs, then straightened his tie. "I like this suit."

"You're afraid you're going to get the suit dirty?" Peter asked, and Neal didn't miss the exasperation in his tone.

"No. I don't want to lose it."

Peter frowned. "How are you going to lose it?"

"When I transform, whatever I'm wearing gets destroyed," Neal said, looking up into Peter's eyes. 

"Just like Superman," Peter said, eyes twinkling.

Neal smiled. "Only cooler."

Peter paused, then his eyes nearly bugged out of his head at the implication. "Wait, you mean, you'll be naked?"

A slow smile curled Neal's lips. "Of course I'll be naked. Or more accurately, I'll be in my natural state, which doesn't include a vintage Armani suit."

"But—" Neal raised an eyebrow as Peter pursed his lips.

"Go ahead," Neal said, sighing as he leaned back in his chair. He wasn't upset, per se, except that he wasn't a carnival attraction and didn't much appreciate being treated like one.

"When you transformed at the warehouse," Peter said, his confusion clear. "When you came back to yourself, you weren't naked. I think I'd have remembered that."

Neal sighed. It wasn't that he didn't want to tell Peter; he'd promised one day to share everything he was with Peter and El. But it went against his very nature to reveal even the smallest part of his existence. The more humans knew, the more vulnerable he was.

Shaking his head to derail that train of thought, he refocused his attention. Peter wasn't doing this to learn where the chinks in his armor were. He had to remember that he trusted the man, even when he was being infuriating.

"When a Djinni transforms, whatever he or she is wearing is vaporized in the release of power," he explained. "It becomes automatic to return to our human form in whatever state we left it in; it's a learned behavior, cultivated over time. I don't even have to think about it anymore."

"So far, I'm not seeing the problem," Peter said, frowning.

Neal hung his head. "I can remake the suit when I return to human form, but it won't be the same suit. I'm good, but I'm not that good."

"That's what you're worried about?" Peter asked, clearly exasperated. "That your suit won't be perfect anymore?"

"It's a vintage Armani, Peter!"

Peter rubbed a hand over his face. Neal could almost see the frustration rolling off of him. He didn't like that he was the cause of that, but he really didn't want this to become a habit. The idea that Peter would only let him off the anklet to use his abilities to help solve a case left a sour taste in his mouth. It made him feel used, in a way that his people had tried to avoid for millennia.

"Neal, we need this," Peter said quietly. "I need you to do this."

Neal barely bit back the _Yes, Master_ hovering on the tip of his tongue, sighing instead. "Fine. But I'm not doing it here."

He rose and walked out of the conference room, uncaring if Peter was finished with him or not. 

~o~

Three hours later, Peter sat sipping a beer as he reviewed what they currently knew about the charity's major players. He was also waiting for Neal. He knew his friend wouldn't be happy that he'd camped out in June's loft, but he really didn't care. He hadn't come over to get an immediate report from Neal; he'd come to find out just what the hell had happened between them that afternoon.

Peter wasn't stupid; he'd known that Neal was less than thrilled with the idea of using his true nature to spy on the charity, but he'd figured that the enticement of spending a few hours off the leash would garner his cooperation. Instead, they'd had a—well, he couldn't really call it a fight, but he knew something significant had happened and he didn't want to wait until later to resolve it. They'd done that too many times already, and it almost cost them their relationship. He wasn't going there again, and he didn't care whether or not Neal would resist.

A breeze blowing in from the open terrace doors lifted the papers on the table, causing Peter to look up. What he saw took his breath away. Tendrils of smoke were gathering, coalescing on the terrace, swirling in a vortex as they spun around a flaming center. There was no sound, no indication at all that there was what looked like a tornado forming just outside. The flame grew, escalating until it cast its light all through the space, banishing the darkness. 

A form began to take shape, and as the flames died back, Peter could see Neal's familiar profile. Much to his surprise, he wasn't naked, but wearing a soft turtleneck sweater and a pair of jeans. When he'd finally transformed, he just stood for a moment, face tilted skyward, arms out, fingers splayed, barefoot on the flagstone. He radiated joy, as if those few short hours in his true form had freed something within him, and it took Peter's breath away.

Neal finally lowered his arms, opening his eyes to find Peter watching him. He waited quietly at the table for Neal to come to him, knowing that Neal needed to feel at least some control over the situation.

"Couldn't wait for my report?" Neal snarked as he passed the table.

Peter sighed. Still pissed, then. He rose and turned to look at his friend. "I wanted to make sure you were okay, actually."

Neal's shoulders slumped. He turned around and met Peter's gaze. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

"Yes, it was," Peter said, a small smile playing at his lips, "but I'll overlook it. This time."

Neal rolled his eyes. He grabbed a half-finished bottle of wine and a clean glass and crossed to sit at the table. Peter joined him, but they just sat in silence for a bit, Neal staring off into nothing, and Peter feigning interest in the files in front of him.

At length, Neal began to speak. "What I am, what I can do—"

"With great power comes great responsibility," Peter said, cutting him off.

"Yeah," Neal said, meeting Peter's gaze once more, ghosting a smile. "Something like that."

"I guess I just don't get it," Peter said. "You've used your… whatever… to pull a con. What makes this any different?"

"It just is, Peter," Neal said. Peter frowned, drawing a sigh out of Neal. "This is who I am. I'm not some carnival attraction, or a tool you get to use and then put away until the next time you need me."

Peter flicked his gaze out beyond the doors to the terrace and the falling darkness. He hadn't realized that was what he'd done. He didn't do that with Diana or Clinton. Didn't remember doing that with anyone else who'd ever worked for him. And now he felt ashamed that he'd done it to Neal—the man who was supposedly his closest friend.

He took a long drink of beer before refocusing on Neal. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize—"

Neal waved him off. "I know you didn't. How could you? None of this is exactly normal."

"But it's normal for you," Peter said. "This is who you are. You said it yourself. I mean, this is who you've always been. Just because it's new to me isn't an excuse."

There was silence for a time as each man contemplated the situation. Finally, Peter spoke.

"Would it help if I let you suggest when your… abilities might be useful?"

Neal tilted his head in thought. "Honestly? That's probably best. It's not that I don't trust you, it's just—"

"This should be a last resort," Peter finished for him. "I agree. And I'm sorry I pushed it today."

"It's okay, Peter," Neal said, smiling. "Really, you didn't know. Now you do."

"Now I do," Peter said, returning Neal's smile with one of his own.

He had no illusions that this would be his last screw-up where Neal and his unique abilities were concerned. There was so much he and Elizabeth didn't know that it was inevitable that they'd make a mess. He only hoped Neal would be this forgiving the next time.

Neal raised his wine glass. "To being just like Superman."

"Only cooler," Peter said, smiling as he clinked his beer bottle against the glass.

~Finis


End file.
